Crossvine

For half its life, my orange and yellow crossvine (Bignonia capreolata) was planted at the base of our mailbox at the end of the driveway where it was drowned by runoff from spring rains, seared by hot Southern sun and poisoned by our next door neighbor.

Eventually, I moved the crossvine to the dying oak tree at the edge of the front garden. Having little faith in its recovery, I planted a plain orange one beside it and tied both to the tree with strips of old cotton cloth, which eventually rotted away as the crossvine wove its way to the top of the tree.

The oak was in decline and as it slowly died, the crossvine enjoyed more and more sun. After it climbed to the top of the tree, stormy winds and climbing creatures would knock the vines off the branches, eventually draping the trunk in a twisted mass. Later, the branches themselves would fall, becoming suspended in the tangled vine, which fell 80 feet down to the trailing verbena below.

A plant with attitude, a great humping mass of crossvine, magnificent in bloom.